Worst Fear
by SupernaturallyEgocentric
Summary: What if things hadn't gone quite as depicted in Slash Fiction? Sam and Lucifer and locked in a jail cell? Not a good combo. Wait,is that a straitjacket?
1. Chapter 1

WORST FEAR

Sam paced back and forth in the small cell, growing more frantic with each step.

Leaning against the cell wall, Lucifer said lazily, "What's the matter, Sammy? Worried about your brother?"

Sam shot him a hostile glance and dug his fingers into the raw wound on the palm of his hand. Fresh blood spattered onto the floor but Lucifer's reflection stayed steady.

Sam heard keys rattling behind him. He spun to see a trio of uniformed officers at the cell door, accompanied by two men in white. One of them held a syringe; the other a straitjacket.

Lucifer laughed. "Oh, this is gonna be _good_!"


	2. Chapter 2

Confined in the interrogation room, Dean lunged to his feet at the sound of Sam's cry. Held fast to the table by handcuffs, he glared at the police officer standing guard against the wall. "What are you doing to my brother?"

The officer said nothing but cast a nervous glance toward the door.

A chorus of shouts and curses exploded from somewhere outside.

"Sam!" Dean pulled frantically at the cuffs. "Shit! Sam!"

"No, don't!" Dean could hear Sam shouting hoarsely, sounding hardly sane, his voice rising high above the din of the others. "Don't! _Don't_!"

Then, silence.

Sinking back onto his chair, Dean shifted his gaze to the officer. At the expression in the cold, green eyes, the man shifted his feet uneasily and looked at the floor.

Dean looked back at the door and waited.

OOOOOOOOOO

Worst Fear was meant to be a simple two-shot tag to Slash Fiction. A what-if. A what could have happened when Sam was locked up in a cell and Lucifer decided to drop in. Was going to end it right here, but if you would like more, let me know and I'll see what comes next. I'm a drabble addict. Don't hate me.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, sorry for the delay between posts. This was originally going to be just a two-fer, but I got some requests to keep it going, so here we are! Took a few days for me to figure out which way to go.

Thanks to Twinchester Angel for giving me a metaphorical kick in the ass - hope you like it, sweetie!

OOOOOOOOOO

CHAPTER THREE

A woman's scream, raw and shocking in its intensity, came from outside the interrogation room. The policeman took a couple of indecisive steps toward the door, then stopped and looked at Dean, who stared back at him impassively.

Another scream tore through the air, seemingly just outside the door. "Help! God! _Help me!"_

Cursing and pulling his gun, the guard ran for the door, unlocked and opened it. As he did so, a dark-haired woman was propelled into the room, the force of the shove sending her crashing into the man, carrying them both to the floor.

Wild-eyed and bloody, Sam appeared in the open doorway, one gun in his hand and another stuck in his pants. Ignoring Dean, he crossed swiftly to the guard, who lay stunned on the floor. The woman, clothes torn, crawled hastily away from him, sobbing hysterically.

Sam stuck his gun in the cop's face. "Key!" he rapped out.

The man stared up at him sullenly and Sam clipped him in the mouth with the gun. "Gimme the fucking key," he said flatly. "I won't tell you again."

Fear in his eyes, mouth bleeding, the man fumbled in his pants pocket and brought out a key. Sam grabbed it and tossed it to Dean, who snatched it out of the air and went to work on his cuffs.

Face grim, Sam clocked the guard on the side of the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. The woman, huddled in a corner of the room, moaned in fear. Sam ignored her, retrieving the guard's gun from the floor.

Free now, Dean crossed the room and peeked out the door. No one in sight. Yet. He glanced back at Sam. "Sam?"

With a final assessing look at the guard, Sam came to the door and handed Dean the guard's gun. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean looked closely at him, frowning. Now that the immediate action was over, his brother was bone white and trembling. "Shit, are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam said hoarsely. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The Impala was in the impound lot next to the police station. A gun stuck in the face of the lot attendant got them the keys and within minutes they were blazing out of town.

Head pounding ferociously and irritably aware of Dean's furtive, sideways glances at him, Sam snapped, "Keep your eyes on the road, I'm fine!"

"Then where'd all the blood on your clothes come from?"

When Sam didn't answer, Dean reached over and lifted his shirt, checking for wounds. Other than rapidly darkening bruises covering his torso and a mark that looked suspiciously like a boot print, there was nothing. Sam shoved his hand away. "Knock it off."

"Come on, Sam, what happened back there?"

"I didn't kill anyone, if that's what you're worried about," Sam snapped irritably.

"Blood,Sam, blood!"

"Noses bleed. When they're broken, they bleed a _lot_."

Dean gave him a hard look and Sam sighed. "Give me a break, Dean. My head is killing me. I'm not in the mood for twenty questions."

Dean looked back at the road unspooling in front of them. "Give me something, Sam," he said quietly. "I know there's something. Just tell me."

They drove on in silence for another few miles.

"White coats," Sam said finally in a low voice.

"What?" Dean looked confused.

"White coats. They were going to lock me up."

"Sam, we were _already_ locked up! What are you talking about, white coats?"

"_Dean_." Sam took a deep breath and tried again. "They came at me with a needle and a straitjacket." His voice started to shake. "They were going to _lock me up_."

Dean got it now. "It's okay, Sam, it's okay. No needles. No straitjacket. I promise."

Sam calmed after a minute. "I'm not letting them lock me up." He looked in the rearview mirror and Lucifer gave him a perky wave from the back seat. Sam shuddered. "I'd rather be dead."

Dean didn't try to argue the point. They'd both had enough of confinement, down below and here on Earth. That didn't answer the question of how Sam had gotten out of his cell and, presumably, felled all the cops that stood between him and Dean. Looking at his brother, white-faced and trembling, he decided to let it wait until later.

"We'll find a room," he promised. "Get some rest." _Talk later_.

Nodding, Sam cast another cautious glance at the rearview mirror. Lucifer was watching for pursuit out the back window.

"Sam, why don't you try and get some rest?"

"Yeah." Sam slid down and rested his head on the back of the seat, closing his eyes against the light. "Then – then we gotta deal with our freaking evil twins." He ran a hand over his tired face. "Jesus, our lives _suck_."


	5. Chapter 5

Just a short little something, cause I knew the Evil Twins were feeling a little peckish. Hunting is a _hungry_ business!

CHAPTER FIVE

The two Winchester doppelgangers walked boldly into the Ankeny, Iowa police station.

The dark-haired woman sitting shakily at the reception desk took one look at the two not-brothers and let out a piercing scream, then collapsed in a gibbering mess across her desk.

At the scream and crash, the chief of police and five other policemen, all in varying degrees of disarray, rage and frustration, ran in from the bullpen and trained their guns on the fugitives.

"Freeze, assholes!" The chief shouted hoarsely.

Not-Sam looked at Not-Dean and shrugged. "Dinner?"

Not-Dean's grin was razor-sharp. "Why not?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Though run down and thick with mouse droppings, the abandoned house was dry and warm, and set far enough back from the road that Dean was sure no one would be able to see the light of their lantern. More important, there was a shed in back of the house big enough for the Impala, so that even if someone did see their light, and that someone was a cop, the Impala wouldn't be sitting out there like a red flag.

Settled in for the night, but unable to sleep, Dean pulled out a new trac phone and dialed Bobby's number.

Bobby picked up on the first ring. "Who the hell is it?" he asked harshly.

"It's me, Bobby," Dean answered, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Dean! Thank Christ!" Bobby heaved a sigh of relief. "I was afraid you two were dead."

"Why? We called you after we got out of Ankeny – "

"That was _hours_ ago!'

"Bobby – "

"Dean – sorry. Damn it! It's – those goddamned monsters went to the police station in Ankeny after you left and killed everyone there!"

"_What?" _

"Every last damned one of 'em," Bobby repeated in a hollow tone. "Dead and torn to pieces. Organs missing from most of 'em." He let out a deep shuddering sigh. "They're calling you two boys cannibals on the news, Dean."

Legs suddenly weak, Dean leaned against the wall. "_Jesus_, Bobby."

"You think it was hot before, it's boilin' now! You two in a safe place?"

"Safe as we can be, considering." Dean glanced over at Sam, asleep on a ratty mattress in a corner of the room. He shook his head, considering the implications of their fucked-up situation. "Man, we are so freaking _screwed_."

"Can you get to me?"

"Not in the Impala," Dean said reluctantly. "We go out on the road in her, cops or monsters will smear us all over the road."

"I'm gonna come get you – "

There was a soft sound from the corner of the room and Dean saw that Sam was stirring restlessly. "Hold on, Bobby."

As Dean knelt beside him, Sam moaned. "No. _Don't_." His face held a fine sheen of sweat; his hands clutched the blanket to his chest.

"Sam?" Dean spoke gently, careful not to touch him. "Sam, wake up."

Sam shuddered, his face twisting in a rictus of agony. "_Don't_," he choked.

Knowing that whatever his brother was experiencing in his dreams could only get worse, Dean discarded gentle, snapping sharply, "Sam! Wake up!"

Sam jerked awake and scrambled back from him, pressing against the wall. Eyes wide and frightened, he stared around the room, clearly still locked within his dream.

"Sam!" Dean moved into his brother's line of vision. "Sam, it's okay. You're with me."

"Dean?" Panting, Sam dug hard into the still raw wound on the palm of his hand, grounding himself in the pain. After a moment, he looked blearily around the room, trying to orient himself.

Dean ran a tired hand over his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded jerkily. "M'okay. Time to leave?"

Dean shook his head and told Sam about what had happened in Ankeny. Sam stared at him in stunned silence.

Dean finally raised the phone back to his ear, knowing the older man would have heard what was happening. "Sorry, Bobby."

Bobby ignored the apology. "I'm coming to get you. We'll stash the Impala until things cool down a little."

Dean hated the idea, but knew it was the smart move. After giving Bobby directions on how to get there, he said a hasty good-bye and looked at his brother, who was staring into space.

"This just keeps getting worse and worse," Sam said dully. "Every time we think we've hit rock bottom – " his eyes widened, focusing on something in mid-air, and he dug into his hand again, keeping the pressure up until the figment slithered away.

"Sam?" Dean put his hand on his brother's arm, waited until Sam's gaze focused on him again. "You've got me, Sammy. I've got you," he said forcefully. "And we've both got Bobby. We'll be fine."

Sam nodded, his gaze switching to Lucifer, who was standing behind Dean, shaking his head sadly.

Dean's grip tightened painfully on Sam's arm. "Are you with me?"

Sam nodded tentatively.

Dean's voice was more than a little desperate. "Come on, man! Are you _with_ me?"

Sam drew in a steadying breath. Ignoring the capering of Satan in the background, he said firmly, "I'm with you, Dean. To the end."


End file.
